The photo above is an excerpt from the notes from my Bible study this past week, the words of which meant so much to me. We were studying the Parable of the Lost Sheep in Matthew 18:10-14 (which, coincidentally, is what I am basing my new children’s book on!) and discussing the great value that God puts on each one of His children.

I have spent most of my life wishing I could do something big and bold for God, feeling like I could do more, and feeling restless in my current situation, which felt too small and insignificant. But the older I get, the more I realize the great value that God puts on the life lived faithfully that may feel “small”; that this calling of mine, though it sometimes feels small and insignificant, is beautiful and valuable to Him.

We know that God’s economy is different than ours (the first shall be last, the least shall be greatest, etc.), and what He values looks very different than what the world values (and even sometimes what we Christians value). But the life lived “small” is incredibly valuable to God. In fact, in this parable, the Shepherd leaves the many - the big flock, the service to many, or what could stand for a big project or large ministry - and goes in search of the ONE.

I love the value God puts on the ONE. That means he values me, and you, and every baby, child, and adult. And even in addition to that, it means he values “the ministry of one” as my Bible study teacher said. It may feel small, but it isn’t to God. He’s calling us to be faithful, in the small and the big. And really, it usually is the small. It is clear that God can use the big - think Billy Graham - but most of us are called to live small lives, impacting the small circle of those around us. And that is beautiful, valuable, wonderful to God.

So I thank you, God, that you see this small life of mine, that you value the ONE, that you see and value me when I can only serve ONE. Thank you that you come as a whisper (1 Kings 19:12). In this world of “the bigger, the better”, that is not what you value. When you were asked who is the greatest, you called forth a child (Matt. 18:1-2). You are bigger; you are better; and that is enough for us. And I thank you for being that for me, for valuing this small, but not insignificant, life of mine, and for giving me contentment in it.

Yesterday I had an epiphany. I came home from dropping my kids at school and all I wanted to do was sit and read. I talked myself out of it because I just had too much to do around the house and reading is only for extra free time.*

What?

What is this “extra free time”? Does anyone ever have some extra? There’s always more stuff to do! Is it so wrong that I want to make reading a priority during the day? Absolutely not! Maybe other people have already realized that, but it was a rather freeing moment for me.

So I thought I’d post these Book Pile pictures occasionally to see how much the piles change with my new-found reading time.

1. Everything that Rises Mus Converge by Flannery O’Connor

2. Six Ways to Keep the “Little” in Your Girl by Dannah Gresh

3. The Merry Little Christmas Project and Planner by Kaley Ehret

4. Heir of Fire by Sarah J. Maas

5. The Gathering Storm by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson

Please keep in mind that by listing these here, I am not necessarily recommending them! For my ratings and the occasional review, make sure to follow me on Goodreads.

*By the way, instead of reading, I turned on the TV. You’d think they were equal trade-offs, with TV being the less desireable (intellectual) choice, but any multi-tasker knows TV is better than reading for “getting things done”.

This is a paper I wrote in college, when I was more interested in politics. I was reading it today to help me remember September 11 - not that I need much help remembering that day - and the aftermath at the site and in our country. It is not very emotional because the premise is that “Politics is everywhere”. But it did help me to remember in a way I haven’t since those first few years.

And ironically, I got a B+ on the paper with the comment “too dramatic”. A criticism of my writing that I will take any day.

The story of American Ground by William Langewiesche is an account of the events following the World Trade Towers collapse at the actual site. But on another level, it is the story of the American nation at its birth. It is new territory, new land. People from different backgrounds and beliefs came and worked. Soon, it became self-governing, an organized political process where the people could work together in order accomplish their goals. It began with pure intentions, but soon, as in every self-interested society, there was conflict. People had their own ideas of what should be done, and formed groups that drew lines of dissent.

Ground Zero was this new land, “a blank slate for the United States. Among the ruins now, an unscripted experiment in American life had gotten under way.” There was no authority or formal process. There was not even any understanding of what had really happened, or what had to be done. There was just a vague knowledge that nothing like this had happened before, and that “the problems that had to be solved were largely unprecedented.” People from all different backgrounds began to run to the site, wanting only to be of use. “The reaction… cut across the city’s class lines as New Yorkers of all backgrounds tried to respond.”People did whatever they thought would help - bucket brigades, digging, and putting out fires - but “for a few days the site was out of control.” With no structure, the site was anarchy and nothing of note was accomplished. Soon, however, “a crude management structure was agreed upon, and most of the volunteers were eased out to the ruins’ periphery, to be replaced at the core by a professional labor force….” Politics had entered the scene and provided a way to work towards a common goal. A hierarchy emerged, and with that, a plan for which the workers could undertake. People even began to use the language of politics, referring to the site as a “kingdom” or to a leader as a “czar.” Lines of disagreement soon came into view, and interest groups began to lobby for their own desires. And finally, a certain sense of ownership, almost pride toward the site, became the norm, similar to a feeling one might have towards their country.

In the early days of the deconstruction efforts, anarchy reigned like the night. No one knew what was going on, how great the damages were, or even if they were making any difference. But soon, however, several individuals surfaced like rays of light, claiming authority where there was none, and beginning the political process. “Leading the effort was the unlikely duo of Kenneth Holden and his lieutenant, Michael Burton – the two Department of Design and Construction officials who had emerged from bureaucratic obscurity… to orchestrate an effective response to the disaster.” These two assumed authority, although they were never given it formally. As the author points out, “Burton had not the slightest authority here at the Trade Center site, but he was willing to assume it anyway.” He and Holden rose to the occasion and brought with them a plan for getting the job done. Other men, too, rose to the authority that they were never formally given. Sam Melisi, a fireman, had an “authority [that] translated into the power to make suggestions that others were willing to follow.” With his authority, as with Holden’s and Burton’s, came power that others listened to.

People at the site soon began to use words that are frequently associated with politics. There was no escaping the political framework within which they worked and political words were what they had to use to describe it. Some referred to Mike Burton as the “Trade Center Czar”, illustrating his power and authoritative manner. The author describes the Port Authority as more of an “empire” than an organization, because of its vast territory around the city. Giuliani was angrily referred to as a “fascist”by the firemen’s union because they saw him as trying to lead an authoritarian government and not taking their views into consideration. The author even notes the political nature of the site, especially when he says to Burton: “It’s your kingdom, Mike. It’s your empire.” And even the pile itself became political, “the pile was the enemy, the objective, the obsession, the hard-won ground…” as if the workers were at war with it, or on it, or were fighting for it.

In any political organization, there will always be people who have different interests. At Ground Zero, the deconstruction began to cause conflicts among these different groups. Timing was an issue, and every group wanted their say. The firemen, who seemed to be the most vocal interest group, began to demonstrate publicly in order to make their views known. The policemen were another interest group, having “tribal allegiances” as well and having “had lost twenty-three colleagues in the Trade Center collapse.”The Mayor’s Office was another interest group and Giuliani decided that “access would be restricted, new procedures would be imposed at the pile, and the number of searchers would be reduced by two-thirds.” This did not sit well with the firemen, who did not want to have their numbers reduced, and wanted to be able to search for those they had lost as slowly as they needed. Conflict arose between these interests and decisions had to be made as to how to keep them all content. Another interest group was comprised of the widows of the men who had died in the collapse. Like all the other groups, it was not representative of “the thousands of others who had lost family on September 11…” but these women had their own idea of what should be done. This conflict soon came to a head and those in charge realized that they would have to start running the operation in accordance with the views of others, not just their own.

The pile soon became a home away from home for those that worked on it. They were there day and night causing a deep sense of ownership, almost pride in what was being done there. Several of the interest groups began to feel a “jealous sense of ownership… that ‘this is our disaster more than yours.’” They felt that this pile that they were working on was their land. In a strange way, this feeling was similar to what the rest of the country was feeling – this is our land, and we will not have others destroying it. The patriotism at the pile was a feeling of pride in their land.

Politics is everywhere. It is an instrument, a tool, for progress. It provides a process and the authority to accomplish a goal. The story of the deconstruction of the World Trade Center Towers gives a picture, a visible symbol, of the effectiveness and ubiquitousness of politics. This abstract idea manifests itself in the work that is done there, through the hierarchy and structure that emerges, the language that is used, the various groups that lobby for their own interests, and even the patriotism and sense of ownership that is shown to the site. Without politics, the job would not have gotten done and the scramble of anarchy would continue to complicate matters. Politics is necessary, whether at a site of deconstruction or in the birth of a new country.

I have officially moved from being a mom-of-young-kids to a mom-with-kids-in-school. This has brought out many feelings, as anyone who has made the transition will know. I have already written (but not yet posted) a super sappy and melodramatic post on the sad end of these feelings. But today, my first day of being at home with no kids, I want to write something happy.

And what makes me happy?

Lists!

And what’s the best kind of list?

A LIST of THINGS that make me HAPPY.

Or more specifically: A list of all the fun stuff I can do in my free time that I could not do with kids around.

Reading on the deck

Reading in my bed

Reading at any location!

Writing on the deck (this is so meta because that’s actually what I’m doing right now, see pic for proof)

Watching non-animated TV

Sitting quietly and just thinking

Taking a long bath (this is hypothetical because our tiny tubs are not comfortable!)

Listening to LOUD music and singing my heart out (sometimes I do this with kids around and they tell me to be quiet)

Practicing the piano

Longer, uninterrupted prayer times

Exercising (OK, I don’t really WANT to do this, but I’ve used the excuse of kids for so long that now I feel like I HAVE to)(or come up with a new excuse, the stifling heat maybe?)

I think I will make this an ongoing list. So when I find new and amazing things I can do without kids in tow, I will add to it. Like GROCERY SHOPPING and GOING TO THE CHIROPRACTOR!! Yay!

My summer fun list is nothing new or extraordinary. It’s not too adventurous and won’t keep us too busy. We just like to spend a few minutes brainstorming a few things we’d really like to do (trips, a few places to visit) and then scatter those in with some other lazy summer activities! You’ll notice most of these are pretty low-key, with a few places to visit that are not huge tourist attractions (we don’t like crowds!).

What’s missing from this list? After viewing this list for the first time, a friend said, “Why isn’t making lists on the list?” I think that’s an excellent point, because as we all know... lists are fun!!

Last night I had a not-too-unusual experience that perfectly encapsulates what a friend has recently called “the weirdness of motherhood”. I had never thought about how weird motherhood was until I heard that phrase and since then I’ve been recognizing it in everything!

At around 4am my son came to me crying about a spider in his bed. Agreeing with him that yes, that is indeed terrifying, but reassuring him that it was a dream, I encouraged him to go back to bed. (Actually it was more like “huh? Dream! Bed!”) But instead, he climbed into bed with us, and I was too tired to argue.

What happened next is a perfect example of the weirdness of motherhood. Let me paint you a picture.

Not shown in this little cartoon is that at one point, I was actually missing my daughter and wishing she would join us in the bed! And literally the next second - almost simultaneously even! - I was wishing my son was back in his bed and I could go to sleep. It’s like wanting to be thin and wanting to eat an entire tray of brownies at the same time! (Another oxymoron in my life.)

Whatever stage of motherhood we are in, we want them gone and we want them back. We want snuggles and we want our own space. We want to hold them forever, but we are training them to leave. So I suppose in the end, we have to concentrate on the good stuff and roll with the bad. I’m thankful that my son kept me up last night and I could capture a beautiful sleeping boy picture. But I’m also thankful he doesn’t do that most nights. I guess that’s the key: being thankful whatever the circumstances.

This playlist is not original to me. It is an Apple curated playlist that they made specifically for me based on my preferences. They do a new one every Tuesday and they are hit-or-miss (usually more miss than hit). But I particularly enjoyed this week’s! So if you are also a fan of mostly female pop artists, with some Disney and show tunes mixed in, this list might just be for you. iTunesSpotify

It’s been a while since I’ve published any fun lists, so today it’s all about TV! I looked for some questions that were more than just “favorite this or that” and it’s was so fun, I may have to do a sequel sometime. And since I love TV so much, I’d love to hear your answers in the comments or in your own blog post!

What was the first TV show you remember loving?I Love Lucy. I knew every episode by heart; have Lucy dolls, trading cards, and books. And if you’re curious, my favorite episode was a little known one: the one where Lucy dances with Van Johnson and does it perfectly!

2. What was the last TV show you watched every episode of?Psych

3. What was the last TV show you watched entirely online?Uhmmm all of them?

4. What was the last TV show you gave up on before it ended?Battlestar Galactica. (I’m gonna get some judgement here...)

5. What's the one TV show you can always watch reruns of, no matter how many times you've seen them?Parks and Recreation, The Office, Frasier

8. What is your all-time favorite reality show?Dancing with the Stars.

9. What is your biggest guilty pleasure show?I’ve watched every episode of Desperate Housewives. A few times over. I figure this counts as my biggest guilty pleasure, because I’m embarrassed to admit it!

10. Who is your all-time favorite TV character?Leslie Knope!

11. What TV character can you most relate to?Katie on American Housewife, although I want to be like Leslie Knope: she can do anything!

12. What TV apartment/house would you choose to live in if money/location/logic made no difference?I can’t think of any because most are apartments in the city. Are there any that are big beach houses or castles in the middle of nowhere?

13. Who is your all-time biggest TV crush?Jim ❤️

14. What is your all-time favorite TV theme song or opening sequence?Friends

15. What is your all-time favorite comedy? (Limit yourself to 3 if you must)Arrested Developement, Community, Parks and Recreation

16. What is your all-time favorite drama? (Limit yourself to 3 if you must)Doctor Who, Stranger Things, Broadchurch, oh my goodness the list could go on full of British crime dramas! (And since you don’t ask, my favorite “dramedy” was Ugly Betty)

17. What are your top three "TV blind spots"—the famous/seminal shows you’ve never seen?Breaking Bad, Game of Thrones (although I did watch season 1), any of these type shows that are just too intense/dark for me!

18. What TV show do you insist everyone you know should watch?Arrested Development

19. What show cancellation broke your heart?Arrested Development

20. What TV moment makes you cry every time?When Andy says, “I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.” (The Office)

So below, you will find our reasons for liking any specific song or music as ranked by high, medium, or low importance. What would you rank the highest? What would you rank the lowest? Are we missing anything from this list?

I don’t remember what I was doing, but I know my head snapped up, ready for a fight! Now, I am not a hard-core feminist but I will fight for my gender when necessary, especially when it comes to my daughter.

“Why do you say that?” I asked, coolly, as if I was only slightly interested. (Sometimes I have to reign in my reactions, so I don’t scare her away.)

“They just like to climb high and jump off things and touch bugs and stuff like that,” she said.

“And that makes them braver?” I asked. Again, I was super-cool about it.

“Well, I’m too afraid to do those things and they aren’t!”

I could see her logic, because it seems to me it’s the logic that most people use when describing brave: If I’m too afraid of something, and you do it, then you must be braver than me.

But I’m here to say FALSE.

Being brave is highly subjective. What is brave for one person might not be brave for another! The hard part about being brave is facing our fears. There is no brave without some kind of fear.

Brave is speaking up when you are terrified to speak in public.

Brave is telling your story even when you feel embarrassed by it.

Brave is continuing to love someone who has hurt you in the past and you are worried it will happen again.

Brave is breaking up with someone who is wrong for you, even though you’re afraid of being alone.

Brave is opening your home to strangers, even though you fear the unknown.

I don’t want to take away from people who speak in public and are not terrified, who tell their story and are not embarrassed, who love someone else but have never been hurt by them, who break up with the wrong person for them but don’t fear loneliness, who are hospitable to strangers but are not worried about what they will bring. Those are all good things. They just are not brave.

Brave does not come easy, so let’s not water down its meaning by crediting it to those people who do not have the accompanying fear.

So as I looked at my daughter that afternoon, I wanted to explain all this to her and somehow show her that sometimes her mom can even be brave! But there’s a problem: in order to reveal the brave, I also have to reveal the fear and insecurity behind the brave. And that’s the hard part. How do I show my daughter that I am afraid but I am doing it anyway, without also passing on that fear to her?

As I think about the brave people that I know and want to emulate, I am struck by the fact that the people who are bravest are also the people who have been the most fearful and have had to overcome it.

But I want to be careful about passing on my fears to my daughter. So as I endeavor to exhibit bravery to her, I want to only show her those fears that I have already faced. (And then someday I can admit that many of my fears, I never could face, so maybe I’m really not that brave at all.)

So we just take each moment as it comes, each little act of bravery. And take advantage of these times when we can just talk - and I can just listen without going on a diatribe.

“Those boys aren’t braver,” I explained. “They just aren’t afraid of the same things you are! You can’t be brave if you’re not a little afraid first.”

My husband and I both love music, and yet even after over 10 years, we can never agree on what to listen to! Finally, on a recent road trip, we were able to pinpoint why: there are actually a lot of reasons to love or appreciate music (or a specific song), we just don’t agree each reason’s level of importance. After this discovery, we endeavored to make a list of all these reasons (below, in no particular order), and for next week’s LotD, we will rank them and compare, so you have something to look forward to!

Once you’ve seen the list, go and listen to your favorite song. What are the reasons you like it? And are they among those listed below? If not, let us know so we can make sure this is a complete list.

I’ve decided that Wednesdays will be list days, just for a little bit of mid-week fun (what is more fun than a list?). So today’s LotD is ranking Pixar movies! I don’t know about you, but this is a frequent topic of conversation in our house (cuz, you know, the important things). So below you will find all 18 movies* ranked by my husband and I. As you will see, we don’t seem to have the same taste at all!

Once you’ve seen the lists, leave a comment with your top choice, top three, or if you’re feeling ambitious (or just bored), leave your whole list and we’ll see how they compare! I’m happy to engage in a friendly debate about why my list is correct.

This post begins a series of monthly posts to both fulfill my resolution of posting monthly, as well as serving as a writing exercise.

What I’m Reading:

Crossroads of Twilight, Wheel of Time, book 10 (Robert Jordan)This is an epic fantasy series of 14 books, each about 1000 pages. But this book has been a low point and I’ve been “in the middle of it” for almost a year. I love this series and am totally invested in finishing it at this point, though!

Come Rain or Come Shine, Mitford series, book 13 (Jan Karon)I’ll be honest, at this point in the series, I am listening on Audible and let myself fall asleep to it every night. I don’t miss much in this slow-moving book, but it’s sweet enough to make me think happy thoughts as I drift off to dreamland!

The Songs of Jesus (Tim Keller)The devotional I’m currently using. Very brief devotions based on a few verses in the Psalms. I wish each one were more in depth, but conversely, I picked it because they are short enough for me to actually get done every day!

What I’m Watching:

Monk, Amazon PrimeI’m embarrassed to admit this is not my first time re-watching the series. But it’s like comfort food to me, and I can work/crochet/fold laundry while it’s on in the background.

The Crown, season 2, NetflixThis is a show that I can watch with Ryan. He likes the history. I like the clothes. Win-win.

Superstore, season 2, HuluAnother show to watch with Ryan. Usually he doesn’t like sitcoms (and they are my bread and butter) but at this one, we both literally LOL.

What I’m Doing:

Crochet heartsIt’s that time of year when I’m winding down with the hats and looking for other crochet projects. Tiny crochet hearts take so little time to make and I just love to put them everywhere!

Kids’ birthday gifts I usually try to include a handmade item for my children’s birthdays, and since their birthdays are only two weeks apart, this keeps me pretty busy in January. I am finishing a train flannel blanket for my 3yo son, and a My Little Pony pillow for my 6yo daughter.

What I’m Learning:

We are all broken, even if we think we have it all together. Sometimes I am horrified and embarrassed by my brokenness. Sometimes I’m proud of myself because I think I have it all together. But really I should be embarrassed when I think I have it all together, because it’s much better when I remember I’m broken. Being broken is beautiful: it’s when God can really shine through.

I wish I could put what I’m learning into a simple bullet point that completely defines exactly what I’m thinking, but really it’s more of an amorphous blur of thoughts that keep changing. I guess that’s why I’m doing this exercise.

I didn’t grow up texting, but I feel like it was invented just for me. I remember sending my first text in college and feeling guilty because I knew I just cost my friend 50 cents. But since then, as the popularity of texting grew, so has my affinity for it.

I usually claim that if you call me, I will text you back (which is a problem when someone calls from a landline!). I will pin memes to my “so me” Pinterest board that say, “I’d appreciate if you’d stop calling me, but I’d probably respond if you decide to text instead.” It’s all just funny, and mostly tongue-in-cheek. And yes, occasionally, if I love you and know you love the phone, I will give you a call. But texting just suits me and all my introvert needs!

The text message takes a lot of flack, however. I’ve heard complaints about how kids never look at each other in the eyes, or never enjoy the present, because they are always texting someone else! I’ve heard that it is leading to the destruction of language and proper grammar, because no one cares about those thing when writing a text. I think these arguments have merit, but like most things in life, a balance must be sought. Text messaging is just a tool, and as with any tool, it’s how we use them that matters.

I’m in a stage of life that is mostly dictated by my children’s schedules. And even for an introvert with some hermit-tendencies, it can get a little lonely! Even though I enjoy the occasional coffee and play dates with friends, I don’t need people around me all the time, or even that often. I don’t need endless phone conversations or a packed-full schedule. But I do need to know that I’m not alone, that I’m not forgotten, even as I putter around the house with only my three-year-old as company. I need to know that I matter to someone in the outside world and that they are thinking of me.

And then I get a text from someone saying hi and checking in or asking for a play date. Or maybe it’s just an informational text or a question about something, but it feels like a lifeline to an outside world that I may not need to be in all the time, but definitely want to know that I am a part of.

So every once in a while, I take the time to just send out texts. Sometimes it’s just to one person who has come to my mind, and I want them to know I am thinking about them and love them. Sometimes I send out several. Because isn’t that what we all want, whether introvert or extrovert, whether texter or caller: don’t we just want to know that we aren’t alone, that we aren’t forgotten, that we matter to someone, and that they are thinking of us?

So if you get a text from me, whether just a random hi, asking a question, or giving you some sort of information, let it be a reminder to you that you are not alone. You are remembered and matter to me and I’m thinking of you. Because I am sitting alone at home or in my car, and after all, texting is my love language.

This is my view as I sit cross-legged and arms outstretched in prayer for a city that has been host to such a terrible atrocity. And I am struck that two days ago, in a hotel less than a mile away, another looked down on this city, and, so filled with evil was he, that he took the lives of so many, including his own. And here I am, little old me, looking down on this city and trying to combat the darkness in my own way.

We planned this trip months ago when we learned that my husband’s promotion required him to attend a series of conferences in Las Vegas, and spouses were encouraged to attend as well. When we heard about the shooting, I thought possibly the conference would be cancelled (and secretly hoped), but no, it was still on, with increased security. So here we came to Las Vegas.

At the airport was the juxtaposition of the blaring signs and colorful advertisements, promoting anything you could possibly desire, with large black screens saying “We’ve been there for you in the good times. Thank you for standing with us in the bad. #VegasStrong” And that is the hashtag I almost used in my photo above, but something in me balked at the idea. Vegas Strong? No, the only help for Vegas, for any city, for our country, and for our world, can be found through prayer.

I do not believe it was a coincidence that brought me here, with a burning desire in my heart to pray. And not just pray, but to sit at the window and stretch out my arms, not out of the hate and evil of the man two days ago, but out of sadness and love.

Tears pour down my face as I pray for the people of this city, both visitors and residents, who have been broken by this act of evil. I pray that they will seek Jesus, the Savior and Ultimate Comforter, for healing and renewal. I pray for the people who are here that have not been broken, because they have built up such walls of hate and fear or even indifference, that God will break down those walls so that His love and transforming power can seep into their souls. I pray for the families of those who died, that they will seek and find comfort in Jesus; I pray for the wounded that they will be healed and give God the glory! I pray that the churches would rise up in love and be welcoming of every single sinner (and by that, I mean EVERYONE, including and especially myself) and say, “Come and gather with us, because we love you. Here you will find redemption and renewal through our Savior, Jesus Christ.” And finally, I have been praying for this city, that it will be transformed by this heinous act, and not by responding evil with evil, but by becoming a city that LOVES, as Christ loves his people. That people would feel the love of God like a broken dam, that floods through every seedy ally and small corners of every heart, and the city would be renewed and transformed by this love, by His power, and by His Grace.

Because I am dealing with my own insecurities while I am here, I feel an inadequate vessel to be pouring out such enormous prayers for this city. But for some reason I am here and feel this burden that I can’t seem to ignore, so I continue to pray things that I may never see answered, or may never see the impact of until I get to heaven. But for some reason, God chooses inadequate vessels, so maybe he did indeed choose me to be here for such a time as this.